


Once, We Promised

by TeaForRogue



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Background Relationships, Established Friendship, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaForRogue/pseuds/TeaForRogue
Summary: As childhood friends, Yuuri and Victor have always been there for each other both on and off the ice. When Yuuri suddenly announces his retirement, Victor is determined to help Yuuri make his last year his best.The sudden ticking clock on their time together expedites what they had both been skating around. But not before they hit a few bumps.





	1. Grand Prix Finale Special! Is this the end of Katsuki Yuuri?!

**Author's Note:**

> A big big big thank you to my beta for this fic, Laura!  
> A big big big thank you to my hypeman, Taylor!  
> Without you guys this thing would likely be a mess. u3u

_“Ka-tsu-ki-Yu-u-u-u-u-ri!!!”_

The man in question didn’t have to turn around to know who called out to him. Only one person would be brazen enough to sing-song his name out loud in a crowd of people in the middle of an airport. Yuuri tensed up to keep himself rooted-- the eventual impact of another human body against his own thankfully not sending him sprawling to the ground. They didn’t need a repeat of the first time.

“Victor!”

With a soft chuckle, Yuuri pushed Victor off, but they weren’t separated for long as the two came together for a prolonged hug.

“Long time no see.”

“I missed you,” Victor whined, his face pressed into the other man’s neck, “did you wait long?”

Yuuri gave a small shrug, careful not to let his shoulder knock against Victor’s face.

“No. I was just messaging everyone about arriving,” he said.

With a sigh, Victor finally pulled away from Yuuri, blanching when he saw that Yuuri had pulled his surgical mask down.

“What. Is. That.”

From the look on Victor’s face, Yuuri guessed he should have kept his mask on a bit longer. “W-what is what?”

“Facial hair. My Yuuri has grown _facial hair_.” Victor’s face contorted through a multitude of emotions. “You grew that since last time?”

Ah, he meant when they met in Tokyo for the summer. Yuuri had to think for a moment.

“Mm….I guess so? It’s never been an issue before. I was going to shave it for the competition.”

Victor didn’t miss a beat. “Please do.”

“H-harsh!”the other man cried, but Yuuri couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling out of him, shying away when Victor rubbed his palm over the scratchy beard forming on his face. The look of disappointment on his face was enough to make Yuuri pull his mask back up and roll his eyes.

“I thought it made me look manly,” he mumbled.

Grabbing his carryon, Yuri made way for the baggage claim.

“You look manly enough,” the other man quipped.

But Yuuri wasn’t about to start arguing with Victor, so he let him get away with that particularly blatant lie. When Yuuri’s suitcase knocked against Victor’s, Victor responded by knocking right back-- and a  war began. Suddenly there were two grown-ass men giggling and crashing their suitcases against each other in the middle of Quebec’s airport, eyes glued to them by fans and passerbys alike.

“Boys!”

Yuuri and Victor froze. Slowly turning around, they saw the figure of stout man who had absolutely no time for their bullshit. Yakov. As if just making an exit from a steamer, his natural disposition was always red, but now he looked particularly peeved. With a final kick to Yuuri’s bag, the two settled down to verbal jabbing, laughing softly as they reconnected.

Yuuri and Victor were friends from childhood. Or, more accurately, since their Junior Debut. What had started as an awkward chat at the banquet afterwards had bloomed into something lifelong.  Though they didn’t even live remotely close to one another – Yuuri in Hasetsu, then Detroit; Victor in St. Petersburg – they saw each other often enough through competitions that the connection never faltered beyond repair. When they were old enough for cellphones, long skype calls over the weekend were replaced by more convenient texting. It just grew from there.

Though Yuuri never understand how someone like Victor Nikiforov considered him as a friend in the first place. Blessed be are the decisions of youth, he supposed. With how socially awkward he was, it was amazing Yuuri even managed to have two best friends.

Which reminded him…Yuuri pulled out his phone and opened up Twitter, sighing when he saw the flood of pictures. “Phichit beat us both.”

“Wha—” Victor gaped at the photos over Yuuri’s shoulder. “How did he beat us to Quebec?”

That….that was a good question. By all means, it didn’t make any sense. Yuuri’s mental map didn’t help make any sense of the fact. He shrugged it off for now.

“A good question to ask him when we meet him for dinner. He’s wanting to eat those weird French fries, the uh, um—”

“Poutine.” Victor said helpfully.

Yuuri hauled his suitcase off the baggage claim with a sigh, immediately reaching to grab Victor’s as well since he was already over. Victor hurried over to help, and between the two of them, they managed to shuffle out of the crowd with their things secured.

A taxi was already waiting for them by the time they exited the airport, Yakov waiting with his own bag. Since everyone was going to the same hotel, they all climbed in together. Yuuri’s coach had been sent ahead to get the check-in process rolling since (in fact) Yuuri had waited over an hour for Victor’s plane to land.

Victor didn’t need to know that.

But being crushed against him in the tiny taxi wasn’t how Yuuri imagined reconnecting. Although at least from this proximity Yuuri could hear Victor’s animated tale over the booming of French music on the radio.

“….even though we managed to get first class seats I wasn’t able to sleep at all, Yuuri, so I asked the attendant if she had any horse tranquilizers and I think she was about to call the marshal on me, but Yuuri, listen…”

To be fair, Yuuri wasn’t listening as much as he could have been. But that was what made their dynamic work – when one was chatty, the other listened. Victor filled the chatty role more often than not, but it was fine. Cute, even.

Yuuri had forgotten the scent of Victor’s fruity cologne. He rolled it over in his mind, happy to take the listening role this time around.

Arriving at the hotel rudely reminded Yuuri that he felt like absolute garbage. All someone needed to do was light a match and he’d be a garbage fire. The plane was rocky, the service abysmal, every baby in the world was a passenger, and someone had tried to sneak a duck on as a therapy animal.

Yuuri could see danger in those dark eyes before the fowl (foul, geddit? :D) creature was removed from the plane.

Victor seemed to understand how Yuuri felt. As if he hadn’t just been talking about poutine for 15 minutes, Victor suggested they get takeout instead.

There was a pause, as if Yuuri was going to put up a fight. But he only sighed and they ordered some light sandwiches from a nearby deli. Once the food was gone, they stayed up a bit more to talk about routines before eventually dozing off – Victor on the couch, Yuuri in the bed.

***

By morning, Victor was gone. But Yuuri could have sworn he didn’t have a blanket covering him last night. He shrugged it off to get ready for warmups, nerves finally settling in once he saw everyone on the ice. Victor was there, shining his thousand-watt smile at anyone who would talk to him, and Yuuri soon found himself enveloped in another hug.

“You missed out on the best poutine in the world last night.” Phichit grumbled, spinning Yuuri around until the two men were facing each other.

Yuuri gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry. Lunch, later?”

Apology accepted, they both stepped onto the ice, Celestino watching from the sidelines. Yuuri didn’t want to think about everyone watching. He didn’t want to think about Phichit by his side, talking about his costume for this year. The thought of the competition made Yuuri feel nauseous.

Not….not like the normal way though. Yuuri did a salchow and stuck the landing easily, brushing his arms out in a circle around him as he followed up with a few loops. No, for once he felt calm about the actual skate itself. It was the people he was worried about.

“Move, pig!” Yurio barked from the sidelines, still lacing up his skates. “It’s my turn!”

Yuuri did one last jump, just to show him, then skated to the exit with a lukewarm smile. “I didn’t see you arrive last night Yurio.”

“I didn’t want to be seen around your disgusting PDA.” Yurio shoved past Yuuri and for a moment, Yuuri was tempted to chase him down and hug him. You just had to get used to Yurio’s particular brand of affection. It was just so stark, compared to…

“Yuuuuuuuri!” He had only just finished putting his skate guards on when Victor found him. “Your jumps are looking really good this year…but your free leg was a little loose.”

“Ah, yeah?” He had noticed, too, then. Yuuri tapped on his left knee with a sigh. “I’m just glad I landed them.”

“Do you have many rotations this year?” The question was a little too innocent.

“Trying to calculate your points?” Yuuri shoved Victor back with a laugh. “You’ll have to see for tomorrow, like everyone else.”  
  
Victor only whined, going right back to squeezing his shoulder. “You wound me. Don’t best friends get to know that stuff?”   
  
“Not when you’re competition too.” With no hesitation, Yuuri reached up and booped Victor on the nose, grinning when it started to turn a bit pink. “…I just want to make the pedestal this time. Isn’t it lonely, up there?”

Yuuri meant to coat his words a bit but Victor could read the underlying intent. “…I’d like to see you with gold.”

“Hmm.” That seemed to be the right answer -- Yuuri found himself smiling again. Victor returned the gesture and moved a little closer. It was only when Victor tucked a loose strand of hair behind Yuuri’s ear that he realized what he was looking at. “Victor?”

“Yes?”

It was unmistakable this close. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?” Yuuri picked at the bottom of it with disbelief. His gloved fingers just barely brushed Victor’s stomach, making the Russian squirm. “I was _wondering_ where it had gone.”

Not that he was really mad. As friends, they borrowed each other’s clothes all time, be it after an especially tiring day at practice or when a prank went too far and what they were wearing was suddenly not fit for public viewing. “Hmm,” Victor smiled down at Yuuri, his visible eye glinting with mischief, “is it?”

“You know it is.” The commotion of it had finally drawn Phichit over. “Phichit, isn’t this my shirt?”

“Looks familiar.” Phichit brushed back his sweaty bangs and squinted at the two of them. “But Yuuri I don’t know what you’re making a fuss over. You’re wearing _his_ pants.”

“Oh!” Victor exclaimed while Yuuri just blanched. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I have a feeling you two do this on purpose. You’re always so careful in our apartment, Yuuri.” Phichit was teasing, of course, but the stares from the other skaters were making Yuuri’s face grow an embarrassing red.

“We just have similar taste…”

“Well,” Phichit glanced away and took a swig of his water bottle, “ _taste_ might be a strong word.”

“Says the guy wearing a hamster sweatshirt.” That seemed to be the end of that, with Yuuri getting the last jab in. He wasn’t about the gloat in his victory, though, because Victor was looking very worried about the future of his skating pants.

“Yuuri….”

Yuuri made to kick Victor with his skating guards. “You’ll get them back. Let’s go to lunch, already.”

Lunch was just the four of them -- Phichit, Yurio, Victor, and Yuuri -- and honestly with the energy between Yurio and Phichit it was more than enough. Whenever Yurio snapped about ‘some dumb Canadian nonsense’ Phichit would laugh and goad him on even more.

Having grown up as Victor’s friend, Yuuri was kind of used to the young firecracker, but he found himself admiring Phichit’s babysitting skills all the same.

Lunch was a swamp of poutine and some sad-looking salads, but with the Grand Prix the next day no one needed to load up on a bunch of coma-inducing carbs.  

They fell into food comas anyway.

But it was good to see everyone. Yuuri saw Phichit almost every day back home in Detroit, but of late they had both been focusing on their own thing. When Phichit announced he was going to spend the last few months in Thailand, Yuuri thought he was setting himself up for failure. And though the man was just a bit younger than him, Yuuri knew it wouldn’t be long before he won gold in one of the bigger competitions, but traveling to sit at home seemed like a strange decision.

Watching him in Detroit had been kind of intimidating. It was refreshing to work alone right before the GPF but it was also….lonely.

Coming home to an empty apartment was sadder than Yuuri had expected.  

Watching Phichit launch into a tale, Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder how he would feel if he was in the same situation.

“Yuuri?” Snapping back to reality, Yuuri was suddenly aware of everyone’s gaze on him. Phichit was smiling. “You OK?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Yuuri waved his hand towards his friend, “sorry, I was just thinking how good it will be to have you back in Detroit.”

Yurio gagged, but Phichit looked pleased with that answer. He laughed, ducking his head and saying, “Aiming to weaken my resolve before the competition?”

“Ah, you saw right through me.”

Victor perked up and said, “Is this psychological warfare?”

“Paired with the physical warfare of this poutine….I might be a lost cause after all.” Phichit sighed dramatically, until all the boys started to laugh.

***

Yuuri didn’t win gold. He didn’t win silver. He held up his bronze with a smile, the medal resting just over his pounding heart. Victor stood at the top, his passionate performances winning him gold for the eighth time. Between them, JJ, with a sour smile.

Everyone had done a fantastic job this year, something Yuuri was proud to say he participated in. He _barely_ beat Phichit in terms of points, but those two jumps at the end managed to give him enough technical points to warrant a medal.

He wasn’t happy, but he was satisfied. Even so, between each congratulatory selfie, Yuuri could feel the smile slipping from him. Fans’ faces were blurring together. Voices were, too. He was only vaguely away when he was led into the conference room that would house the top three skaters. During the exit interview, when questions were finally directed towards him, he had to ask in a quiet fumble for them to repeat the question.

A polite laugh rippled through the crowd of interviewers. “I asked,” the reporter repeated, “what your plans are for the next year. Will we see gold around the neck of Yuuri Katsuki?”

Neither JJ or Victor were watching him, which made this a bit easier. Yuuri pulled his mic closer, fumbling with it for a moment before wetting his lips and saying, “Ah, that’s, um, a good question. I want to say I will give my best for next year.”

It was a lame answer, but one that the crowd seemed to expect from him. Yuuri deflated a little at the thought.

The reporter pressed on, which surprised him more than anything. “How do you plan to improve? Do you have plans in mind to secure victory?”

Yuuri squirmed in his seat, wondering just who this passionate man was. Only a dull bronze medal hung around his neck, so no one should really expect much from him, though it had only been two years prior he was sitting where Victor was now. “Um….well I have a theme in mind.”

The reporter faltered. “You mean for next year’s Grand Prix?”

“No,” Yuuri clarified, “it will be my theme for the entire skating season.”

He had JJ’s interest now, but Victor was still drinking from his water bottle. That was fine. Yuuri swallowed his fear and said, “Next year my theme will be ‘Nostalgic Love’.” There was a quiet appreciation for the theme, but Yuuri felt he still hadn’t conveyed what he meant so he added, “I hope you will continue to support me through my final season on the ice. Thank you.”

Victor choked on his water in the dead silence of the conference room.


	2. My Heart's Pounding! Please Don't Go!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor confronts Yuuri about retirement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned it in the tags, but each chapter has alternating POV from Yuuri to Victor and back. I think Victor is actually a bit easier to write?

There were a few more muted questions during the conference, but most were still recovering from Yuuri’s announcement. Even though JJ looked sour over having his limelight stolen, the silent mourning over Yuuri’s career cast a gloomy feeling over the crowd.

Though it was expected, honestly. Yuuri had just turned 26 in November. Most skaters retired around their mid-twenties – there was always a value for youth and energy over artistry within the figure skating community.

Yuuri had plenty to show the world. That’s what Victor believed. But he saw the downcast look in his friend’s eyes, the silent acceptance of what had to feel like fact.

It didn’t stop him from venting, though. He didn’t know how else to handle the emotions clashing within him.

Victor gripped Yuuri’s elbow after the conference let out, maybe a bit too rough, but it got the Japanese man’s attention. “You didn’t _tell_ me.”

It didn’t faze Yuuri. Maybe he had known it would come to this. He shook off Victor’s grip and turned to look at him. “What would you do, Victor?” Whereas Victor’s emotions were clashing, colliding, Yuuri had the cool gaze of someone who had long decided their fate. “I’m not skating like I used to. There’s nothing you can do about age…”

“Don’t blame this on something trivial like age!” Victor felt the words tumble out of him in a shout. Yuuri’s eyes widened a fraction at the heat of it, startled. “You don’t skate like you used to, maybe, but…That doesn’t mean you can just _abandon_ it. Something you love.”

“I can’t keep this up forever.”

“But why stop now?”

“Because,” Yuuri finally snapped, “I’m tired, Victor!”

It felt stupid to argue about this. Victor kicked himself mentally even as he stood before Yuuri, begging him to reconsider, begging him to have a change of heart. “...Yuuri.”

“I’m tired of disappointing my country,” Yuuri blinked away a few tears in his eyes, “I’m tired of disappointing my family. I’m tired of disappointing _myself._ Do I need to say it so blatantly to you?”

“You’re not a disappointment,” Victor said.

The other man turned away, ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. He sighed. “It’s time we ended this, Victor.”

Victor choked on his reply.

Silence passed between them as Victor faltered to think of the right thing to say. He finally looked back to Yuuri when he heard his friend chuckle.

Yuuri’s smile surprised Victor. He was trying, failing, to mend the mood. “You never were good about emotional moments, Victor.”

“I’m allowed to be angry.” He wasn’t angry.

“I don’t know what to say, if that makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t.”

Reporters on the other side of the conference room were starting to smell the drama; a few poked their heads back through the exit. Yuuri shifted farther away from the door in a vain hope to avoid them. “We won’t be alone much longer.” Yuuri pointed out. “...Is that it, Victor?”

By no means was Victor about to let this slip by. He narrowed his blue eyes at Yuuri and decided, for once, to be obvious with his intent. “Make me a promise.”

“A promise…? Which you’re notoriously terrible at remembering?”

Victor ignored the playful jab. This was serious. “I won’t forget this one, Yuuri.”

“I don’t owe you a promise,” Yuuri sucked in a deep breath, glanced away, “this is my decision.”

“As my best friend. As my favorite person.” Victor didn’t miss the slight blush on Yuuri’s face at that. “Please.”

“…Fine.”

Somehow, this was happening. Victor took Yuuri in – a man grown, a bit too bulky for the ice anymore. He wasn’t a gangly teenager anymore; he had grown into his role as Japan’s finest. His fanbase screamed over his sharp cheekbones, his pitch-black hair, his warm brown eyes, his world-class _stamina_.

At this point, Victor didn’t see any of that. He just saw his best friend.

His reason to keep skating.

The loss of that was too much to bear right now. He wanted to be selfish, for just a little longer.

So Victor put on his thousand-watt smile, watched as Yuuri lowered his defenses. What would the exchange be? Something funny, boyish, like in the past? Something spicy, like in their days of old?

Or maybe something pathetic in its entirety?

“If you win the Grand Prix next year, your last year,” Victor pointed to Yuuri casually, “you can retire in peace. I’ll even send you off in some grand gesture.”

He continued. “…But if _I_ win the Grand Prix, you must skate another season,”

There was a flicker of jealousy in Yuuri’s eyes at the mere mention. Victor caught onto it, devoured the passion still writhing within his friend.

“...and proclaim that you love me on live TV.”

What was a serious conversation dissolved as soon as Yuuri snorted with laughter. It was easily the dumbest and boyish prank in the book but somehow the two had skated around it for all these years – Victor was currently delighting in the way it made Yuuri’s eyes sparkle.

“Of _course_.” Yuuri scoffed.

“What?” Victor was ready to taunt. “Are you afraid, Yuuuuuuri?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes upwards, like he was looking for a sign from heaven. “Fine. Fine! I’ll agree to your bet, Victor Nikiforov, you absolute ass.”

Somehow, he had won. Victor reveled in it, pushing Yuuri back towards the main lobby. The other man didn’t put up any resistance, following close behind, still stifling giggles.

Victor released him to his waiting crew, giving a friendly wiggle of his fingers to Celestino and Phichit before carefully sneaking back to his own team. Yakov was already cherry red with worry. They had a plane to catch and Victor, as per usual, was making problems.

A quick glance back and Victor was gone. When Yuuri turned back to Phichit, he felt a growing wonder at the idea of winning the Grand Prix.

***

Victor wanted terribly to be on Yuuri’s flight at that moment. Even though they had parted ways with smiles, it still felt wrong to even fight in the first place. Victor was pouting in his seat, staring out the window, ignoring the banter between Yurio and Yakov in the seats beside him. Wasn’t first class supposed to be quieter?

Either way, they weren’t matching his mood at all. Yurio was already talking about routines for his Senior Debut and Yakov was fighting each and every suggestion. It was annoying.

Victor remembered the first time he won gold. He wore the medal for a whole week straight.

Now Victor couldn’t even remember what suitcase it was in.

He sighed, deep and heavy. Yurio latched onto the sign of weakness with a snort. “Missing your boyfriend already, old man?”

“Yes.” Victor whined. He ignored Yurio’s audible gag and turned to look at Yakov. “Are we still visiting Hasetsu in summer?”

“Mm.” Yakov gave Victor a curious glance before turning back to his newspaper. “I thought you would be mad with Yuuri for keeping that secret.”

“It was bound to happen sometime. The piggy is as old as you!” Yurio taunted.

Again, Victor ignored him.

“I’m not mad.” Actually, “…maybe a little. But I’m also disappointed.” It felt like pulling teeth, trying to sort through the emotions boiling within him. When Yakov only raised his eyebrows, Victor clicked his tongue with distaste. “If he will no longer be on the ice with me…”

_Why bother skating?_

It went unsaid, lingering in the air of the stuffy airplane, but Yakov was surprisingly calm about it. “He has to beat you first.”

“He’s done it before.”

“Once.” Yurio added helpfully. “And it was a fluke, at that. An anomaly for the piggy.”

Anomaly? It was surprising that Yurio didn’t see – that year of skating had been something else for Yuuri. Victor wasn’t sure what caused him to change two years ago, but that had been the year Yuuri Katsuki had won the GPF. He had looked good on the top podium, smiling with his hands holding gold.

Victor wanted desperately to know the secret of his Eros routine.

Yuuri’s routine that year had floored everyone who saw it -- Victor included. Watching videos of him performing left Victor feeling like he needed a cold shower. Watching it in person was akin to a religious experience. He wanted to bend down, to kiss Yuuri’s feet, and feel the cold kiss of his skates against his lips.

_“What do you envision when you skate to Eros?” Victor had asked, wide-eyed and breathless._

_“Hmm,” Yuuri frowned at the question, “katsudon.”_

_“You’re kidding me.”_

_“No?” The look Victor received was so innocent, so pure. As if he hadn’t just seduced the entire nation in each twist of hips, each flutter of his fingers, and flicker of his gaze._

_Victor licked his lips. “I’m telling your fanbase you get hot and bothered thinking about fried pork.”_

_“Good! Give them something else to chatter about for once!”_

Though knowing Yuuri, his Eros probably was actually ‘katsudon’. Victor knew first-hand how legendary Katsuki-san’s cooking was. Summer was too far away at that moment.

“No,” Victor sighed, “that’s how it should have always been for Yuuri. He’s just not used to being the one to beat – it scares him back down to the bottom.” Until he’s holding silver, bronze, or nothing at all. Until all he has is that placate smile.

“Well, regardless, Vitya,” Yakov muttered, “if you retire you’re dead to me.”

Victor balked at that. “D-dead!”

“How am I supposed to pay my bills if you disappear from the ice?”

Yurio slapped his hand down on his chair, looking as fierce as the tiger print on his jacket. “Stop ignoring me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Victor and Yakov laughed together, finally bringing the younger member of their team back into the conversation. Still, even when things quieted down and the lights of the cabin dimmed, Victor couldn’t stop his racing thoughts.

He and Victor had met as young boys, still exceptional but not quite worth talking about. Yuuri’s hands had been trembling at dinner, unable to hold even his glass of water with an air of confidence. His vulnerability was really cute. Victor remembered that still, even all these years later.

He also remembered the taste of the wasabi peas Yuuri had offered him later into the dinner. The taste was so shocking Victor felt tears prick at his eyes.

Why would any kid be eating wasabi peas? (To his credit, Victor still didn’t know why anyone would ever choose them as their go-to snack) “Mom packed them for me.” Young Yuuri had shrugged, shoving a few more into Victor’s hand. “They remind me of home.”

Present-day Victor chuckled to himself. Did Yuuri even like them? Knowing him, he probably ate not to be rude. Both their lips had puckered at the spicy taste.

The smile slowly drained from Victor’s face. He was staring out the plane window, but his thoughts were elsewhere, focused on something else entirely.

He sighed and closed the blind with a soft click.


	3. I Can't Allow Myself to Lose Track! Yuuri is Filled with Determination!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is hit in the feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Un-betaed so all errors are mine own. Thank you!

Returning to Japan from Canada was rough – Yuuri was already longing for death by the time the plane taxied for takeoff. Phichit was sitting with him until their first layover, though, so that was a relief. They played a few card games, a few videogames, but mostly they just slept against one another.

When Yuuri woke dead-eyed six hours later, with Phichit drooling on his shoulder, he was trapped between moving and waking his friend. So he settled into his motionless fate and thought about everything that had occurred within the last 72 hours.

First, Yuuri Katsuki won bronze at the GPF. Not the best he had ever done, but at least he placed this year.

Second, Yuuri Katsuki announced his retirement. Only one person was upset about it. Yuuri internally groaned and revised that previous thought – only one person was challenging the idea. A bit better.

Third, Yuuri Katsuki got into a fight with best friend Victor Nikiforov.

Yuuri rubbed his cheek as he thought over that particular instance. No relationship was without its fights, but the way Victor had turned it around was so….very Victor. Normally their fights were actual fights. This thing felt more so like a formality.

Like they both knew it was coming.

“Tell the whole world I love Victor Nikiforov…”

It was moronic. Yuuri wasn’t mad about the idea, he was just – god, they were both too old to be falling into such childish strides. Get the press all hot and bothered about some new drama unfolding, only to clarify later that it had been a harmless dare.

Was it harmless when it was true?

Yuuri internally groaned and tried to retract the thought but it was already there, smiling coyly on a bed of roses. _Hi my name is Katsuki Yuuri and I’ve been hopelessly in love with my best friend Victor Nikiforov for years, nice to meet you._

Idiot.

_Skating hurts now that I can’t keep up._

Idiot.

_Why are you upset I’m leaving?_

Idiot!

Yuuri scrubbed the tears from his cheeks and choked on the surprise that washed over him. When it had first been suggested, he had laughed it off, shrugged as always. Where the fuck was this rush of regret coming from?

Tears bled into unsteady laughter, then back to sobs, until Yuuri finally repressed it back down into the pit of his stomach where it belonged. He sighed as he wiped his cheeks dry, holding his hand over his eyes just until the frames of his glasses started to dig into the flesh of his hand just a bit too much.

They would still be friends. Yuuri would still watch his skates and text him congrats.

_You have to win first._

Was the bet even a real thing? Victor would probably forget after the new year passed.

_Remember how he looked when he told you he wouldn't forget._

Yuuri hated that look on Victor’s face. He didn’t want such a stern look directed at him. He didn’t want to be at fault.

When Yuuri left Celestino and Phichit to catch his connecting flight, Phichit’s goodbye hug managed to squeeze all worry from Yuuri. “Happy new year.”

Yuuri smiled. “Happy new year. Drive back safe.”

“You practice hard while we are not there, OK?” Celestino wasn’t about to let Yuuri go home and rot. He had explicit homework at the end of each week, something he already wasn’t looking forward to. But anything to keep him going until returning to America in the summer…

“I will.”

“Phichit may still have many seasons to keep proving himself, but if what you say is true -- and you want this to be your last -- I need you to do your absolute best, Yuuri.”

Those words struck hard in Yuuri’s heart. He gave a swift nod, feeling somewhat inspired. “Yes, sir!”

“Skype me, OK?” Phichit squeezed Yuuri’s arm until he agreed. One last hug and they were gone, Yuuri waving slowly as he boarded his next flight home.

***

Hasetsu was beautiful in winter – even if the snow cost Yuuri another hour of delay, it was worth it to see the blanket of white glistening as the sun rose. _Welcome home, Yuuri_.

Even though it was just bronze, his parents greeted him with kisses and praise, the whole family up at the wee hours of dawn to greet him. Yuuri was only able to wheeze out a quiet ‘I’m home’ before collapsing in the entry way.

He woke up some 14 hours later, bleary-eyed and delirious from over-sleeping. There were a few messages on his phone but Yuuri was more concerned on getting a shower and food. It remained there, untouched, as Yuuri sat with his family and had their first meal of the new year together.

“Yuuri, you’ve lost so much weight!” Yuuri chuckled nervously at the topic, unsurprised when his mom continued, “Do you want katsudon for tomorrow?”

“I would but that’s hardly traditional for New Year’s…”

“You won at the Grand Prix didn’t you?” Mari grumbled from across the table. “Treat yourself, kiddo.”

Yuuri grumbled right back. “Kiddo…? What am I, five again?”

The countdown coverage was muted for the moment, but Yuuri couldn’t help but turn his gaze to it. Oh, right. “Ah, hold on.” Yuuri excused himself to grab his phone, pausing once he got back to his room. He scrolled through a few messages from Phichit, making sure to reply back about landing safely and enjoying the new year.

Then he clicked to Victor’s messages.

Hasetsu was about 6 hours ahead, so…Yuuri did the math in his head and grimaced. There was no way they’d be able to celebrate together. Not like they had been able to when Yuuri was in Detroit, either, but there had been one year Victor spent the new year with them in Japan.

Yuuri was smiling over the thought as he typed out a few quick messages.

Victor’s responses were immediate. Yuuri wondered what his secret for jetlag was.

> **Yuuuuuuuuuuri happy new year! <3 <3 <3 [5:06 PM]  
>  Give Okaasan a kiss from me u3u [5:06 PM]**

The fact that Victor felt comfortable enough to call Hiroko “Mom” never failed to impress. Yuuri chuckled as he typed back.

> **Happy new year, Victor. [5:08 PM]**
> 
> **I’ll make sure to. They keep badgering about you….**   
>  **they forget you’re coming in summer? [5:09 PM]**

Victor took a bit to respond that time. By the time Yuuri saw he had messages, he had already made it back to the living room.

> **The summer is too far away :c [5:23 PM]**

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Yuuri found himself at a loss for what to say to that. He missed Victor, yeah, but they had just fought like 24 hours back. Yuuri tapped his phone lightly against the table as he thought over a response, earning an annoyed grunt from Mari.

“You’re going to break your phone doing that, Yuuri. Tell your boyfriend I say hi.”

“I already did.” Yuuri didn’t blink at the jab. This was a running joke at this point, and didn’t hurt so much anymore. “Why isn’t _your_ boyfriend joining us this year?”

Mari coughed awkwardly and took another sip of her beer with no comment. Yuuri would feel bad if this wasn’t the 10th one she had torn through.

Yuuri’s phone vibrated again.

> **Don’t drink too much tonight. We don’t need a repeat of last year….;P [5:28 PM]**

Oh, that wasn’t fair. Yuuri accidentally sent Victor _one_ sloppy half-naked selfie wishing him a happy new year and suddenly he was a _problematic drinker_.

> **You know you liked it. [5:29 PM]**

The text was sent without a second thought. The regret immediately hit after. “....oops.”

Mari took a glance back and had to do a double-take. Yuuri was turning an alarming shade of red. “Did you accidentally send another nude?”

“What – no, I – shit.” Yuuri whispered, unable to face the new reality he had just stepped into. Victor was going to read that however he wanted to and no wave of sarcastic emojis would convince him otherwise. “I forgot sarcasm doesn’t translate through text.”

Mari gave Yuuri and affectionate pat on the shoulder and turned back to the TV. “Yuuri’s back, cursing and sending sarcastic texts…how America has changed my baby brother….”

“Isn’t that just our generation?”

“Please don’t drag my immaculate self into your rebellion against conformity.”

“…he texted back.”

> **Fair’s fair ;w;….fixed! [5:31 PM]**

Yuuri didn’t know what to make of that until he saw the photo that was sent a moment later. He clicked off his phone in a rush, setting it on the table just as his parents walked back into the living room with beverages in hand.

Yeah, drinking sounded good right about now.

Come morning, Yuuri had thankfully done nothing else regretful, though he did notice the picture from Victor had been saved to his phone.

***

Living in Hasetsu again after being in America for five years was like being on a different planet. It was his hometown, yes, and someplace he knew intimately, but the culture shock wasn’t something Yuuri expected. He spent days going to visit other families and his old friends. When at last all souvenirs were passed out, hugs given and received, and awkward conversations stumbled through, Yuuri was allowed back to the rink.

Visiting only during odd hours, Yuuri found himself always alone on the ice -- just as he needed it. Occasionally Yuuko or Takeshi would help him record video to send off to his coach, but otherwise Yuuri kept to himself.

Yuuri was a creature of habit. It wasn’t hard to fall back into the schedule he had carefully tailored back in America. Run at 6, skate at 7, leave at 9 for the gym, etc, etc.

Where Yuuri fell into trouble was his scheduled free time. There wasn’t much on Japanese TV that appealed to him, and you could only soak in the hotsprings for so long before it got dangerous, so Yuuri spent the remainder of his time looking for jobs.

Just to see what was on the market.

You know, _in case_.

“Entry-level, with 15 years of experience…” Yuuri squinted down at the computer screen with disbelief. He rolled his eyes over the oxymoron and continued to swipe through, bookmarking jobs that seemed within his range of abilities. “This is awful.”

“Should just work for the family,” Mari offered unhelpfully around the cigarette in her mouth. She snapped her newspaper a few times and glanced over, curious. If Yuuri had truly wanted peace, he would have set up shop in his bedroom, but for the time being he was grateful his sister was there to walk him through this. 

Working for the family….Yuuri knew it was what his parents were hoping for when they heard he was thinking of retiring from the ice. His stomach twisted at the idea of disappointing them. They had already put up with his lackluster ice career; would this be yet another smudge on his character?

Yuuri must have paled a shade or so, because Mari was sighing again, saying, “You don’t owe Mom or Dad anything, Yuuri. I’m just saying it’s an option if nothing else comes up. You’re a smart guy though -- I know you could handle any kind of job you want.”

“Really?” Yuuri felt a bit misty-eyed over it all.

“I’m not going to give you any suggestions because you’ll start thinking you’re following a path I laid out for you, but,” Mari smiled a little, “do you even know where you _want_ this job?”

America and Japan were both fine. For cities, Yuuri felt more partial to places he had lived in, but thought maybe he should consider bigger options. So, the answer was…

“No,” Yuuri sighed, “I can’t make a decision at all!”

Mari hummed noncommitedly and smoothed her paper out again. “Your family has gone without you long enough, but your current friends are all in Detroit. Is that it?”

“At least I have Japanese citizenship. With America….”

He drifted into silence. Even with Mari trying to help him work through it mentally, Yuuri couldn’t make a decision.

“Well, what kind of jobs are you looking at?” With an expectant glance, Yuuri turned the laptop towards Mari and watched as her eyes skimmed down the list. “Oh.” When Yuuri just squirmed, Mari went on to say, “Not a bad choice, actually. I think you’d really excel.”

“Oh, thank you.” The laptop was turned back to Yuuri and he hid his relief that Mari approved. She was still tapping her hand on the table, though, so Yuuri glanced back up at her.

“I want to see you win the Grand Prix Final, I really do.”

“...thanks.”

“But I know more than just your family is going to miss you on the ice, Yuuri. I’m not trying to talk you out of it,” Mari took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Yuuri, “I just want you to be happy.”

“This,” Yuuri motioned the laptop, “has been long overdue.”

“That doesn’t mean it’ll make you happy.”

Yuuri turned back to the screen. “I need it to.”

Even through the click clack of the laptop’s keyboard, and the partial screen of the monitor, Yuuri knew Mari was watching him again. He didn’t want to say anything more. So he was a bit relieved when she latched onto a new subject. They lapsed back into comfortable, meaningless chit-chat.

Yuuri thought about the picture saved on his phone.

His heart ached with the recollection of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen..................did you think this would be all fun and games??? Don't worry, Yuuri will gather his confidence along the way.  
> Also, writing texts feels cheap but it had to be done!


	4. I Want to Eat Kastudon! Hurry Up Summertime!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor checks in on Yuuri after Nationals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to keep up with the schedule the show presents to us but by no means am I perfect...so please excuse any errors in the timeline. ;w; All we need to worry about is Summer and December, right?
> 
> *I'm not super happy with the length of this chapter, expect some edits later on.

Nationals were eating away at Yuuri. 

Victor wasn’t even  _ there  _ and he could tell. Texts from Yuuri were shorter, even more to the point than usual. Whenever they did skype, Yuuri always had a pile of papers around his desk. The video quality wasn’t good enough where Victor could actually sneak a peek at what they were for, but the looming Nationals date didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

Yuuri had never had an issue with the Nationals before. The one time he did mess up – bad – he was able to scrape together enough points at the Japan qualifying competitions to get into the Grand prix. 

The cameras were all over Yuuri for the competition. Of course – he was the favorite, had been for 10-something years. There were always those looking to overthrow Japan’s favorite, but when a skater was skating his last year, it was something worth watching. 

Yuuri decimated the competition. 

Victor watched the medal ceremony with a shocked reverence, hand clutching the remote and eyes glued to Yuuri’s relieved expression. 

Those routines should have gained Yuuri a new world-record but in the beginning his jumps didn’t have enough rotations. That was an easy fix; one Yuuri had probably already mentally noted. 

Victor felt his competitive side take a hold of his emotions. The short program needed more rotations...there were parts Yuuri didn’t transition into fast enough. But the emotion of it? 

‘Nostalgic love’ was too gentle a phrase for the look of loss Yuuri wore. 

The free skate was the technically stronger of the two, as it typically was with Yuuri. However, the emotion was unsettling half-way through. The transition from devastation to bliss was too jarring and it ruined the mood of the skate. 

It might be due to inexperience.

Growing up together, Victor knew each and every one of Yuuri’s past relationships. None lasted more than a few months. Every single time, Yuuri had been the one to break it off. 

_ “I don’t feel like I’m being honest to them.” Yuuri said, eyes downcast. “I can’t even meet them halfway.”  _

The words had puzzled Victor for a long time, but eventually he came to learn that Yuuri wasn’t talking about his busy schedule or other commitments. 

“It feels forced.” Victor murmured to himself. “Obligated.” 

So why had the short skate been so much stronger?

***

“Yuuuuri omedetou gozaimasu~” Victor waved his fingers at the phone. Yuuri met his congrats with a smile of his own. He looked exhausted, a bit out of it entirely, but pleased to hear praise from Victor. “Your short skate was amazing.” 

“Eh, really? I flubbed my jumps more than once.” Yuuri sighed and scrubbed the loose water from his hair -- maybe he had gone for a celebratory soak in the hot springs? Victor ached to take a dip, too. Soon. 

“Take the compliment.” 

“Ah, sorry.” 

“I think the theme you picked was a smart choice.” Victor continued, letting his competitive side simmer down in favor of their friendship. “Your skates are best when expressive, and something like that is harder to accent with jumps...which I noticed were a bit lacking.” 

“Classic Yuuri.” Yuuri chuckled.

“Classic Yuuri.” Victor parroted with an answering laugh. “The other contenders were a lot of familiar faces.”

Yuuri made a face at the mention of it. “Yeah….did you notice Daisuke there?” 

“Unfortunately.” Victor made a point of ignoring the jealous twist of his stomach.

“It was so embarrassing,” Yuuri groaned with his hands covering his face, “I didn’t want to have to talk to him so soon.” 

“That was, what, six years ago?” 

“I still never know what to say to my exes.” 

_ I’d have a few things to ask about,  _ Victor thought to himself. He only smiled. “Was he mean to you?” 

The look on Yuuri’s face said everything. Even if it was uncomfortable for him, Daisuke was nothing but cordial. As was expected from someone you only dated for 2 months and then parted with mutually. “Well…”

“Besides, you wiped him all over the rink,” Victor purred, “with your gold-medal performance.” 

That seemed the right thing to say; the idea of Daisuke was wiped from the conversation just as Victor wanted. Now they were back to Yuuri, and his great win.  

Yuuri ran another hand self-consciously through his hair before determining it looked fine enough. Victor could see him wiggling in his seat even from thousands of miles away. “...was there something else?” 

A blush immediately graced Yuuri’s cheeks and he squirmed even more. “The competition worried me more than I thought. I’m just glad I managed to pull it off without my coach….we had decided on the routine last year but I was worried about practicing, with no one to give me pointers…”

Ah, he had a point. “You’re returning to Detroit after the summer, yah? You’ll be able to finalize everything then.” 

“Mm, yeah, but...since it will be my last year…”

“If you beat me.” Victor cooly reminded him.

“Well.” Yuuri rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I was wondering, if you would help me in the summer with a quadruple flip….if you want.”

Eh?  _ Eh????  _

Victor could barely believe his ears -- apparently he froze long enough that Yuuri thought the video feed had lost connection. “H-hold on.” Victor begged. For the 12 years they had been friends, Yuuri never  _ once  _ expressed an interest to learn Victor’s world-famous quad flip.    
  
Victor didn’t know whether to feel elated or fearful. “You barely landed your triple jumps and now you want to learn a quad flip? Yuuri, that’s…” 

The way Yuuri’s expression deflated made Victor want to turn back time. Before he could scramble to explain, Yuuri was already folding in on himself. He curled a lock of dark hair around his finger and mumbled, “No, you’re right. You’re coming to Japan to have fun, and I wouldn’t want to impose. Just f-forget I said anything.” Yuuri cracked out the saddest smile Victor had ever seen and gave a small shrug. “It’s your signature move for a reason, yeah?”

“No, no, no,  _ no _ ,” God, it was worth everything to see that sparkle of hope in Yuuri’s eyes again, “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into when you ask me to help coach you.”

“You’ve helped me before--”

“On easy stuff, and when we were both a lot younger.” Victor didn’t appreciate that Yuuri rolled his eyes at that. 

“It might take more than your little trip over to Japan, is what you’re saying.” 

“You’ll have some homework to do before I arrive.” Victor said. Yuuri mulled it over for a moment, but for once he didn’t look daunted. He must have discussed this idea with Celestino or Phichit beforehand. Victor hardly ever saw such outright confidence in his best friend.

Yuuri leaned back in his chair and gave a small nod. “OK,” he said, “just tell me what I need to do.” 

***

Victor checked the calendar once he and Yuuri finished their video call. They had just started April, which meant there wouldn’t be another competition until October. Or, if Yuuri wanted to focus solely on the GPF, then there wouldn’t be anything for him to bother with until November for the qualifying rounds. 

But more importantly, in August Victor would be flying into Hasetsu. 

It hadn’t started originally as a tradition but somehow it had shaped that way -- neither Yuuri nor Victor were  _ terribly  _ hard-pressed to do anything ice-related in the summer so it made perfect sense. Yuuri and he would meet in the Osaka airport and ride the bullet train together to the paradise that is Hasetsu for the two weeks they were allotted.

Yuuri was oddly susceptible to peer-pressure. Victor smiled as he recalled the original reason it had all started, though if anything he should have been ashamed. 

He wanted Yuuri to see him naked. 

Hot shame used to wash through him at the memory, but now Victor was just amused with his past, very naaive self. When they first disrobed, and Victor was ready to present himself as a great gift for Yuuri, he had been completely gutted by the sight of his best friend instead. 

Victor had sat there in the hot spring like a stone statue, eyes glazed with sudden knowledge. He was so muted throughout the night he forgot to peacock for Yuuri and ended up making Yuuri even  _ worry  _ about him. 

Whatever Victor had originally planned for their Japan adventure was thrown to the outskirts by the unstoppable force that was Katsuki Yuuri. 

Actually, their trip that was planned for this summer shared a lot of similarities to the first summer. A week in Hasetsu, then a week in Tokyo until they were both flying to their respective training grounds. 

Victor flipped back through his calendar and didn’t think over the trip again until a month later, in May. Yuuri had made good on all the homework Victor was making him do, and it actually seemed like the quad flip wasn’t going to be too hard a jump for Yuuri to pull off. 

He always had the stamina, the talent and drive, but never the experience. He might have been frustrated in the past that it didn’t come naturally like it did for Victor, but even Yuuri had to acknowledge that this was all coming together better than he thought. 

When they weren’t talking about routines, they talked of their trip. Victor had been to Japan a number of times now -- both for skating and for fun -- so there wasn’t much he hadn’t already seen at this point. Yuuri, having been dragged along anytime he was competing with Victor, was in the same boat. 

In order to curb their lack of ideas, Yuuri and Victor would randomly send each other photos of important temples or monuments, research them, and then conclude if it was worth seeing or not. 

This worked for the most part, but Victor was having a hard time getting Yuuri to reply after just a few days. 

Yuuri was always a little lackluster when it came to texting so Victor didn’t think much of it. He just continued to send photos and little blurbs about the locations. 

When it came on 3 days with no reply, Victor started to wonder if Yuuri had lost his phone again. Victor pursed his lips and sent out a picture of Makkachin. 

A few hours later, when he was starting to cook lunch, Victor heard the tell-tale ring of his cellphone on the kitchen table. He set the pot to low and walked over, smiling when he saw Yuuri’s caller ID. “Yuuuuuuri, good evening.” 

Victor had leaned on the table to answer the phone, but he shot up straight when someone other than Yuuri responded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers?? In my fic?? It's more likely than you think


	5. You Crash, You Burn! Pick Yourself Back Up!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a sudden twist of events, Yuuri is forced to sit on the sidelines while he recovers. He thought it would be a quiet time in his life but nothing is quiet with Victor around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Un betaed so all errors are mine. Thanks!  
> My first full length chapter with no breaks....nice.

When Yuuri woke up he was in a room he didn’t recognize. It smelled unbearably of sterilizer and fake-linen, enough so that it disoriented him even more. But eventually he came to the realization that he was, in fact, laying in a cramped hospital room. 

Yuuri blinked a few times to bring everything into focus -- realizing all too late his glasses were on the bedside table.

It seemed an impossible distance away, so for a moment he was content just to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall why he was in a hospital.

Yuuri couldn’t remember anything very clearly at the moment, but he was sure that the night prior he had been making sure to practice the jumps as Victor had requested. Whether he had done them all to his own satisfaction was lost to time but Yuuri vaguely thought that he had been ready to head home. 

Either way, every part of his body was currently aching. His head especially was pounding, little spots of black clouding his vision here and there. It wasn’t as if Yuuri had gone his entire career without being injured -- but most of the time he had the sense to break his ass instead of his head. 

One breath, two. Yuuri pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed. It was all he could do to keep the panic from swallowing him whole, though even that seemed to be subdued for the time being, drowned out by a blanketing pain. Also an incredible feeling of being oily and stagnant. Ew. 

After a moment, he gathered enough strength to look out the window. It was maybe mid-day, maybe later. How long had he been out? The clock on the wall refused to define it’s numbers, no matter how hard Yuuri squinted up at it. 

He was just leaning out of bed a touch to grab his misplaced glasses when he saw his parents step into the room. “Yuuri!” They hurried to help him back into bed. After a moment, Hiroko put Yuuri’s glasses on for him. “You’re finally awake.” She looked relieved to see him, even if he was struggling to sit up. 

“Eh….” Yuuri blinked a few times, eyes darting around the room. He had been right; it seemed like they were at Hasetsu’s tiny local hospital. “Did something happen?” 

“Oh my.” Hiroko looked disappointed to hear Yuuri say this. 

It was Mari’s turn to step into the room. She held a small basket of flowers, and made sure to close to door behind her. “You’ve been unconscious for a year.” 

“Mari!” Toshiya didn’t look pleased by her little joke. 

“You took a rather bad fall during practice, Yuuri. You’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness for the last 24 hours.” Hiroko murmured. Yuuri felt a flash of cold panic run through him at the news. He tried to shift closer to his mother, but once again found himself struggling. 

He looked down to see why. 

And sighed. 

The cast around his right leg was huge, bulky, and a cruel reminder that even skilled skaters could make stupid mistakes. “Oh,  _ no…. _ ” 

“You suffered a minor concussion and managed to break your leg, Yuuri. You’re very lucky Takeshi was manning the rink!” Yuuri winced at this father’s scolding. He would definitely have to thank Takeshi later, once he was discharged. 

“I must have landed that last jump just wrong,” Yuuri mumbled, “I’m sorry for making you worry.” 

“We’re just glad you’re okay, honey.” 

Still...24 hours was a long time to be unconscious. Yuuri finally looked at the fluids strapped into him. He brought his hands to his chest, feeling the heart monitors glued there, and wondered for a moment if his family was telling him the whole truth. “You say minor concussion, but…”

The rest of his sentence trailed off. Yuuri was growing paler by the second, saved only when his mother gently draped her hand over his and squeezed. “The nurses said most of it was exhaustion, not the concussion itself. You’re okay now, honey, we’re just a few hours from your discharge. We were just waiting for you to wake up.” 

“But you will have to keep that thing on for up to eight weeks.” Mari put a flower from the arrangement into Yuuri’s oily hair. “Sorry.” 

Yuuri tried to not look too crestfallen, but his facade obviously didn’t work. His parents both chuckled good-heartedly at his pained expression. It was going to be a  _ long  _ recovery whether he wanted it or not and if he tried anything to speed up that process eight weeks would likely turn into double, even triple that. 

All he could do was take it easy. 

It sounded like hell. 

“That’s going to be so boring…” Yuuri still managed to whine. 

“You can catch up on all the good TV shows you’ve missed!” Toshiya offered. 

His family was doing their best to make him feel better, but nothing they offered him made him look forward to wallowing in laziness for the next few weeks. Normally the idea of taking it easy was a lot more enticing but….well, Yuuri had a lot riding on him being prepared for the GPF. 

When the doctor knocked on the door, Yuuri’s nerves continued to fray. 

Yuuri fell asleep halfway home and was only roused to when he found himself being carried to his bedroom. He mumbled a quiet thank you and was promptly asleep again. 

Since he wasn’t allowed to go to the rink anytime soon, Yuuri spent his morning getting breakfast ready for everyone. His leg still throbbed, but with a bit of wiggling, Yuuri was able to figure out how to cook eggs on the stove while leaning on the support of his crutch. 

Yuuri couldn’t even remember the last time he had breakfast with his family -- maybe the injury was a blessing in disguise. Bah, best not to say that kind of thing to Victor. Which, speaking of….Yuuri tapped his pants but came back empty-handed.

Where was his phone, anyway?

A quick search brought no result -- but Yuuri was sure he brought it with him the night of the accident. Takeshi wouldn’t still be holding onto it; it likely shifted hands when Yuuri was actually admitted to the hospital. 

“Ah, well,” Yuuri muttered to himself, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, “I’ll find it eventually.” An acceptance Yuuri would come to deeply regret.

He was slumped against the family kotatsu later that evening when he finally caught sound of the commotion at the front door. It was mostly drowned out by the recurring episode of  _ Candy or Not Candy? _ so Yuuri didn’t even bother to lift his gaze. “Heehee.” There was something cathartic about watching a grown man attempt to chew through a pair of glasses.

With his broken leg, Yuuri hadn’t had to move all day; something he thought he would dread but in actuality it was nice to be pampered. Mari brought him tea, his father and mother made sure he was set up comfortably under the kotatsu, and everything was zen. 

Well, except he couldn’t find his phone. That still sucked. 

The commotion in the front room was getting even worse. Yuuri raised his head just as soon as Victor came storming in. Yuuri opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish -- what on earth was Victor doing here?!

It seemed like it was a surprise for them both; Victor was disheveled, his silver hair awry, face lined with worry, and brown pea jacket completely unnecessary in lukewarm Hasetsu.

“...eh?” Yuuri was clueless to what was going on. Victor hadn’t broken his stride since he entered the room.

Victor slammed into Yuuri with enough force that he was convinced Victor forgot he was injured -- until they pulled apart and the pile of offerings at the entryway came into view. Yuuri chose to ignore them for the moment, letting the surprise of Victor’s arrival wash over him instead. “V-Victor!” 

The other man didn’t say anything at first, just held Yuuri at arm’s-length and looked down at the cast on his leg in silent judgement. Whatever was going through his mind, Victor didn’t want to say just yet. 

After a moment he raised his head of silver and blubbered out, “I’m sorry, Yuuri…!” 

The sight of tears was so startling it was Yuuri’s turn to be quiet. Just until he found the right words to stumble over, asking, “Why are you crying?!” 

“It’s all my fault you got hurt at practice! Someone should have been supervising those jumps for this  _ exact  _ reason and now you’re going to be out of commission for a whole month plus because of it…” Victor sobbed again and bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry!” 

“It’s fine, Victor.” Yuuri let out a soft sigh of exasperation. 

“It’s not!” Victor raised his head at the indignity of such a statement, blue eyes twinkling with tears still unshed. Ah, he was putting on such a good brave face. 

Pity washed through Yuuri. Though why this kind of soap-opera drama was unfolding in the Hasetsu living room was beyond him. It felt almost lackluster, especially with the cheesy Japanese gameshow playing in the background. Victor really  _ did  _ believe it was his fault, then. “I mean it, Victor, this was my own fault. So please stop apologizing.” Yuuri gave his friend and once-over and sighed again. He reached up and brushed a bit of lint from Victor’s shoulder, using the movement to draw him into another hug. 

Warm arms curled around him, Victor like a koala around his precious eucalyptus. 

When they drew apart again, both men were smiling. “I can’t believe you flew all the way here. You could have just called.” Yuuri muttered under his breath. 

“I. Did.” 

“Oh.” It took a moment. “My phone.” 

“You lost it in the shuffle of things, didn’t you?” Yuuri turned his gaze away from Victor’s pursed lips and laughed nervously. That seemed to satisfy the Russian man for the moment -- at least until he tugged Yuuri’s leg out further from beneath the kotatsu. He clicked his tongue at the sight of the bulky thing already covered in sugar-sweet ‘get well soon’s. A few friends had stopped by during the day to check in on him. 

“It looks worse than it really is,” Yuuri said, “it’s just a dull kind of ache.” 

“And the rest of you? Mari said you had a concussion.” Victor slid his hand up to Yuuri’s forehead and kept his gaze on Yuuri’s. 

Unbidden, Yuuri felt his face heat with a blush. “Minor, I promise.” 

The rest of the Katsuki family finally followed Victor into the living room. While they bustled about to get dinner ready, Victor held up his hand and padded back to the front room, returning with his arms full of the presents he had brought. 

Yuuri took the poodle plushie in his arms and squeezed it tight. It was kind of overwhelming to have Victor suddenly  _ here,  _ begging for forgiveness and looking him over as if he were to implode on the spot. No one from his family seemed to mind, though, so Yuuri had to assume that they had known about this beforehand.

With his cast still in Victor’s lap, Yuuri watched as Victor pulled a marker from his pocket and started to write his own words of encouragement on the plaster. Thankfully, his other friends had left some room for others to use. “You know, I wasn’t even practicing the quad flip when I fell.”

“No?” Victor paused in writing for a moment, gaze flicking up to Yuuri.

“It was…” Yuuri said, “for something else.” When Victor raised his eyebrows in question, Yuuri shook his head. “It’s a secret.” 

“I hope it was worth it.” Victor scrunched his nose at the japanese kanji he was attempting. It was impossible to decipher upside down, so Yuuri left it be. 

“...I can’t tell if you’re mad or just upset. Not only did you fail to latch onto my  _ secret,  _ but you’re speaking in Japanese too. Did you think the concussion knocked all English out of me?” 

His voice must have sounded testy, because Victor heaved a sigh. “Would you rather practice your Russian?” 

“ _ Eat shit and die, pig. _ ” Yuuri rumbled with his best Russian accent, knowing that particular phrase by heart. Thanks, Yurio. The resulting snort of laughter from Victor proved he had said it well enough that he could at least recognize it. “ _ My Russian isn’t so bad.”  _

_ “I want to die everytime I hear it.”  _ Victor scoffed, but his ears were turning pink. 

Yuuri wiggled his leg in such a way that Victor almost stopped functioning. He grasped onto the cast hard, and shot Yuuri a glare that threatened to melt him right then and there. “You didn’t answer the original question.” 

By the time Victor decided to speak again, the new signature on Yuuri’s cast had be finished with a flourish. Did that say ‘Love Love Katsudon Power’? Yuuri squinted down, but Victor’s light touch on his cheek brought his gaze back up to the man holding his leg in his lap. “I was just worried. Seeing you like this makes me feel a little better.” 

“I appreciate you coming.” That was the truth. “But you didn’t have to.” 

“I don’t want to hear any more of that, Yuuri. Just let me take care of you, okay?” Victor looked exhausted from his flight, had likely worried himself sick over Yuuri’s disappearance, but still wanted to make sure Yuuri was comfortable and resting well? 

Yuuri hid his face in his hands and sighed. Even though he knew Victor wasn’t expecting anything back, Yuuri would try to make up for all of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys tell I've never broken a bone in my life? 


End file.
